


Both Hands On The Throttle

by Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Category: Star Trek: 2009
Genre: Breathplay, Kink Meme, M/M, Sci-Fi, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-11
Updated: 2009-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Spock throttles the hell out of his captain, but only when the captain really deserves it. But, what if Kirk's pissing him off on purpose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Both Hands On The Throttle

**Author's Note:**

> **Characters:** Kirk, Spock  
> **Rating:** NC-17  
> **Warnings:** THE INTERNET IS FOR PORN.  
> **Notes:** This was done for the **st_xi_kinkmeme** on LJ.

* * *

In response to this prompt:  
Spock/Kirk, erotic asphyxiation

i mean, after that bridge scene, COME ON. ANONYMOUS. PLEASE.

* * *

Kirk, it seemed, could not resist pushing his buttons, although Spock had been very good about not _having_ any buttons to push, for many years. There was just something about the captain that slipped past his nearly-impeccable self-control, and jabbed him straight into irrational violence.

At the moment, Spock was considering exactly this reaction to the captain's behaviour, while pinning Kirk to the wall of the corridor, a few inches off the ground, with one arm pressed against the captain's neck, and the other hand gripping the wrist for better leverage. Kirk's face was a brilliant red, tinging toward blue around the lips, and he continued to struggle weakly against Spock -- or at least, Spock had thought it was struggling until he noticed that the leg he was using to prop his captain off the floor was butted against a rather reactive part of the human's anatomy -- and react it had.

Spock's eyebrow arced up, and he dropped Kirk, backing up, sharply. The captain collapsed, wheezing, to the floor, clearly struggling not only to breathe, but to get his voice back.

"Is this why you continue to harass me, Captain? Some bizarre human mating ritual?" The disgust was plainly written on his face, to anyone who'd spent enough time with Vulcans to read it. "I object to being used as a sex object without my knowledge."

"And with your knowledge?" Kirk asked, breathlessly, rising to his hands and knees.

Spock did not answer, a bright green flush spreading across the tops of his cheekbones as he stared down, aristocratically at the collapsed captain. He found himself oddly ... tempted, by the invitation, but that would violate several regulations, and would involve participating in sexual activity with not only a male, but a _human_ male.

_"And you're half what?"_ his mind prodded, but he shut down that line of thought as he stalked away down the corridor.

* * *

For weeks, Spock was just a little more terse, a smidgin more snippy, with everyone he had to speak with, in a day. He could not get the image out of his head of Kirk, on the floor, asking to be choked in some strangely sexual fashion. Despite, or perhaps _because of_ Dr. McCoy's objections, he'd taken to punching Kirk in the face, instead of choking him, when those times arose. Vulcans might be irrational while emotional, but some things were easily learned and tightly held, even then.

Finally, after all too many days of a greasy-feeling curiosity that would not let go, he caught the captain in the corridor, coming off shift -- and caught was unquestionably the word.

"Excuse us. It is vital that I speak to the captain at once," he told the unfortunate nurse Kirk had been flirting with, as he shoved the captain down the hall, one hand firmly planted in the middle of his back.

"Spock! What the hell are you doing, man?" Kirk protested, trying to turn around to get back to the nurse he'd been chatting up.

"You may ask me that when we have reached a more private locale. The middle of the corridor is hardly the place for me to answer." Spock could feel the blood beginning to rush to his cheeks, but correctly assumed that the crew would think him merely irate with the captain, yet again.

Reaching his quarters, Spock pushed the captain through the door and followed him, locking the door behind them. Kirk looked terribly confused and offended as he turned on Spock, ready to begin a tirade on appropriate behaviour.

"You asked me a question, several weeks ago, about whether I objected to being used as a sex object, with my knowledge." Spock stated, completely interrupting Kirk's intended rant. "I have decided that despite he numerous violations of regulation this would cause, I am willing to try it and see if this is an acceptable solution to the problem of you inducing me to commit violence on you in public.

"You are," he added with a hint of a smile, "exceptionally good at that."

Kirk stared. Then he stared blankly. Finally, he got sound to come out of his open mouth. "Are you _agreeing_ \-- offering even -- to have sex with me?"

"It would appear that this is the case, Captain."

* * *

After some debates and awkward sputtering on both sides, it was decided that the experiment would take place on the bed, and that Spock should be straddling the captain, to minimise the potential for unintentional damage to both parties. Kirk's fantasies, after all, did not include being dropped on the floor.

Spock's hands gripped Kirk's throat, and the captain held his wrist to give direction on how hard to squeeze. Fascination overrode revulsion, in Spock's mind, as his captain writhed beneath him, apparently taking pleasure in the lack of blood and oxygen to the brain. Spock speculated that it took a special kind of stupidity to take pleasure in a life-threatening pastime, but he acknowledged that such retardation might actually be the _result_ of cutting off bloodflow to the brain.

Speculations of idiocy aside, Spock found the human side of himself oddly aroused at not only the captain's thrusting hips against him, but the perception of absolute control. This was the captain of the USS Enterprise, the _Federation's flagship_, writhing beneath him, slowly suffocating at his hands. His Vulcan logic told him when to loosen his grip, so the captain wouldn't _die_ \-- sometimes before Kirk's hands did the same -- but the giddy rush of human emotion was irrepressible.

Spock shifted his hips against Kirk, trying to adjust the fit of his trousers, without removing his hands from the captain's neck. A delicious chill ran through his body, lingering in his fingers and the tip of his tongue.

"Do you like this, Captain? Is it what you wanted?"

One of Kirk's hands moved to give a thumbs-up, before it moved again, fingertips brushing down the front of Spock's trousers, gently tracing what lay beneath.

Spock twitched, nearly letting go of the captain's neck, in his surprise. A smirk distorted Kirk's slightly swollen features, as he continued to rub his palm against the Vulcan's crotch. Resigned to a _human_ sexual experience, Spock tossed the last of his control out the airlock, and ground his hips against the captain. Lush chills rippled through him as Kirk's fingers and cock were pressed more firmly into parts of his anatomy he rarely considered.

Gritting his teeth around a moan of pleasure, Spock noticed that the captain had begun to move more quickly and almost spastically. He loosened his grip, assuming he'd griped too tight, but Kirk's body arched, beneath him, hands clutching at the sheets. In fear he'd actually murdered his captain, Spock released Kirk's throat at once, grabbing his shoulders, instead.

Squinting up at Spock's terrified face, Kirk patted him on the arm, and gave him another thumbs up. Somewhat contrite for scaring the hell out of his unusually adventurous first officer, Kirk pulled one of Spock's hands to his face, kissing the fingertips. He was _not_ prepared for the shuddering groan that escaped the half-Vulcan's lips. Kirk raised both eyebrows in surprise as Spock flushed a verdant green.

"The fingertips are, ah, a Vulcan erogenous zone, Captain."

With a mischievous look, Kirk slipped the tip of Spock's finger into his mouth and sucked. Spock's brain very nearly exploded, in exactly the way that Vulcan brains don't. For a moment, he clutched at the front of the captain's shirt, in shock, before letting that hand travel to his own mouth, where he indulged in the same pleasures the captain bestowed upon his other hand.

Within minutes, Spock writhed desperately against his captain, the occasional low groan escaping him as he was forced to stop sucking and breathe. It took barely another nudge to push him over the edge, and he got it when one of Kirk's hands returned to the front of his trousers. Spock's entire body tensed -- head thrown back, knees spread wide, hips thrust forward -- as a breathtaking chill slammed through his body. He was perfectly still until the swirling cold feeling subsided, and his fingers slid, at last from his mouth.

"So, would you do it again, Spock?" Kirk asked, still hoarse from being choked.

"I do not know, Captain. It seems barbaric and illogical, as well as violating, as I said earlier, several Starfleet regulations." Spock rubbed his forehead with the back of one hand, shifting off the captain and onto the bed. "I need to think on it. Ask me tomorrow."


End file.
